Grieving a Relationship: Friendship Edition

It's not me. It's you (probably).

Mar 01, 2024

Ed. note: The first of a two-part series. Stay tuned for next week’s edition on grieving a divorce.

Our conversation abruptly turned to the topic of this newsletter and veered into death, in general. The six of us, all friends from college, and all members of the Dead Parent Society, were catching up after an enjoyable dinner and chatting over drinks.

Her name came up, as it does from time to time with this group. She was my friend from high school1 and I introduced Her to this group at some point. She ingratiated herself with this group of my friends, when She2 was a near-constant fixture in my wife’s and my life. She was a bridesmaid in our wedding, my wife was in Her’s, and we spent nearly every weekend for about 10 years doing things socially with one another.

We discussed the coincidence of her mother’s death having occurred the day after my father-in-law’s. The services for Her’s mother were the day after his. One of these friends reached our through a social media direct message and offered Her condolences, the first time he had made contact in 10+ years. She replied with a generic thank you.

She is a stranger to me now3. More than a decade ago, She ghosted my wife and me. The text thread went quiet and the phone calls about “what we were doing this weekend” stopped. I tried once or twice to reestablish contact and got nothing. My wife got together with Her and got a cold response about, well, everything; she (my wife) let it go, figuring maybe She was dealing with something and would come back around.

In writing Dirt Nap, I have followed a simple definition of grief — a person’s emotional aftermath following a loss. Thus far, we’ve defined loss through death, but what about the end of a relationship? Not how a loss ends the relationship; some would say that the death of a parent or sibling doesn’t end your relationship with them. It may actually deepen those ties. I mean when a friendship or relationship is over. How often do we follow the stages of grief when we break ties with another person? My guess is rarely.

I read something by Ashley Neese of The Deeper Call that triggered the above question:

Something my therapist has said to me while working through challenging and painful aspects of my family of origin is that we honor our relationships by evolving past them. I have parts that feel sad, guilty, even slightly afraid to outgrow people. It feels like clenching in my stomach, a bitter taste in my mouth, and shoulders that are frozen toward the sky. When I give myself a little space to sit with his words and allow them to land right here, right now, something new emerges. What starts off as a slow build of warm energy inside of my mid-line, turns into a warmer global internal energy, a full body yes. Yes, it is honoring to our relationships to outgrow them. And I’d add, it is honoring to us to outgrow those relationships.

It’s the last sentence I’ve sat with since reading Ashley’s piece. It’s okay to outgrow a relationship. Ashley writes about how she made a meaningful connection with another adult based on their intersecting interests, how a “rupture” developed in their relationship, and the pain of seeing that other person live on. She writes: “One of the most painful aspects of feeling the grief of no longer being in relationship with this person is that I believed our friendship could withstand this rupture. Or, maybe, I hoped it could. I hoped that at some point she would reach out and be able to meet me for a repair.”

When I think about the relationships in my life that have broken down, they fall into four buckets:

I fucked up. I know, it’s hard to believe, but I’ve done some things wrong in my life. In one case, some words fell out of my brain and cascaded from my mouth that I couldn’t pull back. Part of being a Fixer4 is that you ~~lecture~~ dispense advice so frequently that you eventually say something painfully insulting.
I was done. I’ve walked away from some relationships because I just wasn’t interested in who they became or being part of their universe. Falling hard into a political black hole generally relegates you here. In some instances, particularly with some female friends, once I realized that I was simply an emotional crutch and validator to them — that realization often took longer than it should have — they were moved into this column.
Grown apart (high school edition). It’s nobody’s fault. We went to different colleges and became different things. I don’t do pretend very well, so I can’t just sit around and reminisce about the good ol’ days as if they’re something I miss. It’s why I’ve never attended a high school reunion and probably won’t.
Grown apart (college edition). Again, it’s nobody’s fault. No hard feelings, but no real brokenheartedness either.

In that particular case where I fucked up, I did feel a bit of shame in the grief cycle, regularly wondering what may have become had I just kept my mouth shut. Would they still be an active part of my life or would they have eventually moved to Grown Apart land? I did apologize to them5 after cooler heads prevailed, but the damage was done. What I said wasn’t untrue; it was just unspoken and I think I surprised both of us when I revealed what I was thinking. I do a social media peek from time to time to see if they are okay, but never once felt moved to reconnect. I fucked up. I repented. I grieved. I moved on.

I didn’t grieve those that I walked away from. That was medicinal and necessary for me to be healthy. As for those people in the grown-apart categories, I’ve never really thought about whether grief was appropriate. Neither of us fought to remain in the other’s lives. The relationship didn’t die; it just ceased. That’s okay too.

There’s a class of people in everyone’s lives that you only see at weddings and funerals; usually far-flung cousins, former neighbors, or high school or college acquaintances. We need to establish a second class; the group of people who we saw at weddings but I’m not sure we’d attend their funeral because they became people that we used to know. My wife is going to read that sentence and think I’ve gone too far, and maybe some of you will as well. I’m a little more pragmatic about it.

Dirt Nap Q&A: Barbie Atkinson, LPC-S

Regular readers of Dirt Nap know that I like to find experts in their field to offer perspective and correct any false notions I offer in my writing. Barbie Atkinson is the owner of Catalyst Counseling in Houston, where she is a practitioner who counsels friends in tumultuous or strained relationships. Barbie was kind enough to answer some of my questions for this week’s edition.

Relationship counseling is a natural outgrowth of talk therapy, but friendship counseling seems like a new concept, relatively speaking. How did you make the jump to this type of counseling?

I can see how it can feel like a jump, but it has felt so natural to do so. As a systems-trained therapist, I realized that even though I can see someone individually, their friends, partners, and parents are “on the couch” with them. I began to invite clients to invite friends to come to sessions with them when I started working with adolescents in the early 2000s. In the adolescent world, as you may remember, peers are king. Not only are friends important for teens, but also it is an integral time in learning and practicing how to be in relationships. What I noticed was that friendships through the lifespan remained as important even though they had changed along with the people involved.

Friendship therapy is a relatively new development in the field of therapy, and it has become increasingly popular in recent years. However, the need for this type of therapy has existed for a long time. Friendships are an important part of our social lives, and when a friendship is lost or becomes strained, it can cause significant emotional distress.

I've gotten so many emails and calls regarding almost permission to seek therapy for a friendship on the rocks, people wanting to stay friends after a romance, or a friendship shift after one member changes due to life circumstances including political beliefs and stances. Most of them felt "silly" asking me if this was okay to seek (stigma or fear of judgment: People may fear societal judgment or stigma associated with seeking help for emotional distress, including after a friendship loss).

I got enough of these calls and emails to realize that there is a wee bit of shame involved in seeking help for a friendship because sometimes friendships can be trivialized. It’s not a partner, parent, or family member, so it felt like it was not serious enough to warrant therapy. However, I saw the same sadness, pain, confusion, and hopes of mending as I did in traditional relationship therapy. I also got fucked (you don't have to use this word, obviously, but I can't think of a better word) by a friend that I believed to be tried and true, but she ended up being plagued with secretive addiction and a personality disorder that not even I could see; that sparked a new love for helping people with their feelings toward friendships and each other.

When people think about relationship therapy, I think that they often picture marriage or family counseling either because they have gone through it or how it’s depicted in movies or on TV. The idea of friendship therapy seems like quite a new niche, but it seems like the need has been there all along.

In your practice, do you find that people experience grief when a relationship ends?

Yes, people often experience grief when a friendship ends because they have invested their time and emotions, shared life and experiences with the person whom they considered a friend, and were attached to them emotionally. Losing a friendship can therefore be seen as a loss, which can create feelings of sadness, loneliness, and grief similar to other losses, like losing a loved one or a job. The extent of grief can depend on the depth and length of the friendship, as well as the reason for its end.

A friendship is a real choice. It is born and maintained when you have a shared interest and commonalities. It is not entered to prosper, as in business partnerships; no blood runs through, as in familial ties; and isn’t driven by attraction, as in romantic relationships.

Why do we grieve the loss of some relationships but not others?

We grieve the loss of some relationships, but not others because the intensity of the relationship and emotional attachment are often a major factor in whether or not we experience grief when the relationship ends. Some relationships are more profound and intimate than others and have a greater emotional impact on us. For example, the loss of a close friend or family member often results in a more intense and extended period of grief than the loss of a casual acquaintance.

I had a group of six adults in their 50s who were childhood friends seeking therapy because they were all drifting apart and didn't want to. The duration of the relationship also plays a significant role since we tend to invest more time and emotions in relationships that have lasted for a long time. In addition, the cause of the relationship loss impacts whether or not we grieve. If a relationship ends due to death, it is often more likely to result in grief than a relationship that ends due to a mutual decision.

Why is it important for us to grieve a relationship loss?

Grieving a relationship is important because it is a process of accepting and coming to terms with the loss, which is an essential component of healing and moving forward. Suppressing or denying negative feelings following a relationship loss can be harmful to emotional and mental health. It can lead to prolonged sadness, lack of closure, and difficulty in forming new relationships or continuing with normal activities of daily life. Grieving is an opportunity to acknowledge and process feelings of sadness, anger, and other emotions that come with the end of a relationship. It helps to reflect on the causes of the relationship loss, learn from it, and ultimately grow from the experience. Through the grief process, ideally, one can make peace with the past, restore emotional balance, and move forward in a healthy and constructive way.

In writing about death and grief, I’ve been confronted with the topic of what is worse: Having a loved one die suddenly (heart attack, car accident, etc.) or slowly (cancer, ALS, etc.). Through the relationship lens, do you see a better or worse option between growing apart over time or having the door slammed in your face?

I think it can all suck and it is not a competition. There can be a slow erosion of a friendship either by time, space, or shared interests, that may (or may not) feel less impactful than a friend who betrays you or outwardly states “this friendship is dead” or “this is no longer serving me.” A friendship is a real choice. It is born and maintained when you have a shared interest and commonalities. It is not entered to prosper, as in business partnerships; no blood runs through, as in familial ties; and isn’t driven by attraction, as in romantic relationships. The more commonalities two friends share, the more likely they are to remain friends, and the more commonalities they lose, the more likely it is that they won’t.

I read recently that we honor ourselves by outgrowing a relationship. As a counselor and relationship expert, do you agree with that sentiment and how would you explain that to a client?

When we outgrow a relationship, it means that we have matured, evolved, or changed in some way that no longer aligns with the dynamics or needs of that relationship. It's not uncommon for people to outgrow their relationships with friends as individuals change in response to life experiences, personal goals, and other factors. It can be a challenging and emotional process that often involves letting go of attachment and embracing the uncertainty of moving forward. I had a set of friends that came to see me because one of the friends had gotten married and had a new baby, and her life priorities seemed to change and their friendship and amount of time spent together was no longer a priority. The single friend felt like she'd lost common ground and didn't know what to do.

However, by outgrowing a relationship, we are honoring ourselves by acknowledging and prioritizing our personal growth and well-being. It means that we are respecting ourselves enough to recognize when a relationship no longer serves us. This can lead to new opportunities for growth, self-discovery, and deeper and more meaningful relationships with those who are in alignment with our current values and aspirations. Therefore, outgrowing a relationship is a natural part of life, and it should be celebrated as a sign of personal growth, self-awareness, and self-respect.

Friendship therapy seeks to provide individuals and groups with the tools to improve communication, resolve conflicts, and build stronger, healthier friendships. Counseling can help teach you and your friend new communication skills, identify areas of conflict or misunderstanding, and provide a neutral and supportive environment in which to explore issues and work on building a stronger, healthier friendship. Or not.

Just like I have helped married people uncouple, I can help friends “uncouple” as well. Counseling can be especially helpful if you and your friend have been struggling to communicate effectively on your own, or if you've been facing ongoing difficulties in your friendship that you haven't been able to resolve. In counseling, you can learn and practice specific communication skills like active listening, assertiveness, and conflict resolution, which can help improve your friendship.

Barbie Atkinson is a Licensed Professional Counselor in the state of Texas, and founder and practitioner of Catalyst Counseling Services in Houston. Her answers were lightly edited for length.

Stages of grief?

I used to see Her’s mother frequently on my Sunday grocery runs and she was equally as baffled as to what happened6. I put a lot of thought into this topic over the years and can’t quite stick the landing. She knew that I wasn’t the biggest fan of her husband7, but it was an unspoken dislike that was never really a factor. Maybe that was it. Maybe I put too much stock in her as a person; She was in med school, about to become a doctor and maybe She thought she was above hanging out with non-doctors.

Or, maybe, just maybe, She’s a trash human being and I missed all of the signs.

If you accept Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’ stages of grief as canon, I don’t think I ever experienced denial, though my wife did. I did experience anger, but not bargaining or depression. The anger was at both Her, and myself for the investment of time and emotional energy. I was also a bit embarrassed that I introduced someone from my life to my core group of friends, whom She turned on as well. There wasn’t bargaining or depression; I never felt the will to fight for the relationship’s survival or emotionally hurt from its loss. I simply moved to acceptance.

We honor ourselves by outgrowing our relationships

Look, I won’t sit here and tell you that I am or was some sort of angel. There are plenty of things that I’ve said that I wish I could take back and plenty of things that I’ve done that they don’t make large enough erasers to correct. I would guess many of you, dear readers, have your own regrets you would like to strike from the record as well. But, we are who we are, and Ashley’s sentiment about honoring ourselves in outgrowing a relationship rings true.

Growing apart from another person or deciding you are done with their bullshit doesn’t happen overnight. You build up to a point where you lose touch, realize that you don’t have anything in common and/or don’t want to associate yourself with them. You find yourselves looking for the exit door in what seems like a dark hallway; sometimes you feel along the wall for the handle and other times you just wind up outside, face down in the front yard. There is certainly some anticipatory grief here, at least subconsciously, as you see yourself moving away from them. The deep recesses of your brain begin conjuring dreams and opening pathways to help you deal with the coming emotional tide8.

Grieving looks different when the door slams immediately. There’s no pre-grieving. This is the massive heart attack of friendship loss and it hits everyone differently. Maybe you’re like me and you just stand there stunned, wondering what happened and what you could have done differently. Maybe you’re like my wife and you want to fight back and preserve something that’s (apparently) too far gone. The grief cycles and emotional weight that fall on your head are quite similar.

I was back to work the day after my father-in-law’s funeral. I took a break from triaging my emails and grabbed a sympathy card from the shelf910. I offered our condolences and a note explaining that we were sorry to miss the services but had some of our own to tend to. I sealed the envelope, addressed it to Her’s father and mailed it.

It seemed like the human thing to do.

Share your story

Not all grief is about the death of a person. A Griever’s Digest can be about the loss of a relationship, a job or something meaningful but inanimate. Consider sharing your grief with a bunch of strangers. Email me at jaredpaventi at gmail dot com.

Final thoughts on finality…

“Most people think life sucks, and then you die. Not me. I beg to differ. I think life sucks, then you get cancer, then your dog dies, your wife leaves you, the cancer goes into remission, you get a new dog, you get remarried, you owe $10 million dollars in medical bills but you work hard for 35 years and you pay it back and then one day you have a massive stroke, your whole right side is paralyzed, you have to limp along the streets and speak out of the left side of your mouth and drool but you go into rehabilitation and regain the power to walk and the power to talk and then one day you step off a curb at 67th Street, and BANG you get hit by a city bus and then you die. Maybe.

— Denis Leary